


Fallacies and Assumptions, Logical and Otherwise

by billiethepoet



Series: Fallacies and Assumptions, Logical and Otherwise [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 11:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12863751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billiethepoet/pseuds/billiethepoet
Summary: Spock must piece together fragments of memory to uncover the truth of who he was. He knows his own heart, but what about Jim's?Set during TVH.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to the lovely [Curry](itemfinder.tumblr.com) for beta reading this. 
> 
> This is my first foray into Star Trek fic, but I have loved Kirk and Spock since before I knew what love was.

_How do you feel?_

_How do you feel?_

Spock stares at the screen. The hollowness that has existed in his chest since the fal-tor-pon throbs. But it is shrouded in darkness and Spock cannot make himself confront it directly no matter how often he tries to turn his attention there. 

“I do not understand the question.” 

“What is it, Spock?” 

Spock turns toward the entrance. He had not noticed Amanda’s approach but warmth spreads in his stomach when he hears her voice. 

“I do not understand the question, Mother.” 

“You're half human. The computer knows that.” 

The warmth twists a bit and becomes painful. Spock pushes it down. 

“The question is irrelevant.”

“Spock, ...the retraining of your mind has been in the Vulcan way, so you may not understand feelings. But as my son, you have them. They will surface.” Amanda’s smile is patient, tolerant. She sounds like she’s explained this before. 

He suddenly wants to ask her why she married his father, why she raised a Vulcan son, and why she’s remained on Vulcan all these years. He does not. The most he can give is a small concession. 

“As you wish, since you deem them of value. But I cannot wait here to find them.”

There’s no sadness in her eyes, at least none Spock knows how to read. “Where must you go?” 

He thinks that is rather obvious. “I must go to Earth. To offer testimony.”

Amanda steps closer. Closer than a Vulcan would stand to another Vulcan in casual conversation, but Spock finds he does not want to step away. “You do this… for friendship?”

In that pause, Spock’s heart beats a little harder against his side. “I do it because I was there.” It’s an excuse. Spock knows it’s an excuse but cannot remember what he’s trying to excuse. 

“Spock. Does the good of the many outweigh the good of the one?” 

Spock raises an eyebrow. He knows humans jump quickly from topic to topic in conversation. He knows he used to be able to follow those jumps with ease. He’s still getting used to that again. “I would accept that as an axiom.” 

Amanda spreads her hands. Something deep in Spock’s psyche stirs. It recognizes this as a sign of impending victory. He can see her, much younger, making the same gesture. “Then you stand here alive because of a mistake ...made by your flawed, feeling, human friends. They have sacrificed their futures because they believed that the good of the one, you, was more important to them.”

_Jim… Your name is Jim._ His throat is dry and his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth. “Humans make illogical decisions.” 

Amanda smiles at him. It’s full of wistful sadness and motherly affection. Spock recognizes those emotions on her face. He wonders how often he’s seen them. “They do, indeed.” She steps forward again and places her hand on Spock’s sleeve. It’s too familiar a gesture for any adult Vulcan, but Spock still doesn’t want to step away. “You should think about why these particular humans made those illogical decisions.” 

James Kirk’s smile, the way his tense face collapsed into lines and wrinkles as his lips spread, flashes in Spock’s mind. “How am I to understand such irrational motivations?”

“I think you may find you understand them just fine.” Amanda squeezes his arm before departing. Spock’s skin tingles through his sleeve. 

_How do you feel?_

***************  
Meditation is a key component in Spock’s recovery. He spends more hours in meditation than he does at rest. 

He uses that time to piece together the fragments of memory that seem to float unbidden to his consciousness. Those memories are only scenes, or sometimes just a smell or a line of conversation. In meditation, he can pull more to the surface. 

*****

In his mind, he sees James Kirk aboard the _Enterprise_. He’s younger, with a golden glow to his skin and hair and a sly grin that spreads slowly across his face.

“I’ll have you in four moves, Mr. Spock.”

In the memory, Spock’s feels warmth in his chest at Kirk’s smile. He wants to tease, to keep that smile on Kirk’s face, to make Kirk laugh. He arches an eyebrow. “That is supposition, Captain.” He moves a bishop. 

Kirk responds immediately by moving a knight. “Three moves.” 

That golden smile is a bit brighter. Spock almost thinks of losing just to keep it there. He studies the board again and sees his mistake. Jim’s strategy is erratic. It changes every game and is nearly unpredictable. There’s no way Spock can win this match. The corners of his mouth soften, almost turn up in the shadow of a smile. 

“I concede. Your strategy follows no logical pattern.” 

“Do you find that distressing, Mr. Spock?” Kirk smirks and that halo of golden light around him shines brighter. Spock can feel it in his chest. 

He arches an eyebrow. “I simply wonder if Dr. McCoy should administer a psychological battery to determine that your decision making is not compromised.” 

Kirk laughs and Spock cherishes the swoop in his stomach. 

*****

He stares at Janet Lester in Sickbay. Her insistence that she _is_ Jim Kirk marks her as unstable by everyone else, but Spock can see Jim’s expression in her features and hear the cadence of Jim’s speech in her voice. 

“You are closer to the captain than anyone in the universe. You know his thoughts.” 

Janet Lester’s skin feels different under his fingertips, but it is Jim’s mind that meets him. Finding Jim’s mind in another body is… disorienting. 

When they flee Sickbay, Spock wraps a hand around Jim’s wrist. He touches both the sleeve of Lester’s dress and the delicate skin exposed when that sleeve rides up. He pushes down fear that tastes like copper in the back of his mouth and lets the soft hum of _Jim_ leak through their connection. 

It’s only later that Spock realizes Jim did nothing to separate them. 

*****

He’s in Sickbay, in near darkness, and Captain Kirk lies on a biobed, unmoving and pale. The monitors beep and flash and Spock is comforted by them. There’s a dim light coming from under Dr. McCoy’s office door, but Spock knows McCoy is deliberately leaving him alone with the captain. 

Spock breathes deeply and turns inward. He needs to work on his controls. They are tenuous. Sorrow and shame burn behind his eyes and, if he were not Vulcan, he would cry. 

He cannot remember why Captain Kirk is in Sickbay, but he knows he did not do enough to prevent it. He will do better in the future. He has to. He cannot lose Captain Kirk.

*****

Embarrassment, shame, and dread crash over him. He is back in his quarters on the _Enterprise_. He slumps at his desk and twists his hands together so tightly it feels as if his knuckles might shatter. He cannot make eye contact with Jim as he tries to describe pon farr with something as pedestrian as salmon. Birds and bees and fish cannot compare to the yearning for connection and the drive to possess that Spock feels. No amount of meditation will control it. 

Everything Spock has worked his entire life for has been burned to the ground in a matter of days. He is no longer a creature of logic. He is more emotional and out of control than any full blooded human could be. He has failed and every childhood bully’s taunt is validated. 

“I haven’t heard a word you’ve said. And… I’ll get you to Vulcan somehow.” 

Jim’s kindness is more than he deserves. He raises his eyes only after the door slides closed behind Jim. Spock yearns. 

*****

His dress uniform scratches at his throat. His parents will be stepping onto the ship at any moment. He watches Jim and McCoy. He hasn’t told them who Ambassador Sarek and his wife, Amanda, are to him. His father won’t acknowledge the connection, but his mother could easily make it known. Warmth spreads in his chest at the thought of his mother’s smile. He allows it to sit there for 3.7 seconds before he pushes it away. He straightens his spine as his parents approach. 

*****

He remembers nothing of pon farr. He remembers T’Pring demanding the kal-if-fee, he remembers hot, abrasive sand under his hands and knees, and then Jim is dangling, lifeless, from his ahn-woon. 

For the first time in his life, Spock does not have to work to suppress his emotions. They are gone. He feels nothing but a yawning emptiness. His chest is hollow and his limbs are nearly too heavy to move. He moves through that foggy blankness all the way to Sickbay. He knows exactly what needs to be done. 

“Don't you think you better check with me first?”

There is no Vulcan training that could have stopped the crashing wave of relief, joy, and love that engulfs Spock as he grabs Jim’s biceps and spins him around. The expression he feels on his own face is foreign, he has no idea where it comes from, and it falls away in the face of Dr. McCoy and Nurse Chapel’s scrutiny. But, the hollowness that has rung in his chest since his earliest memory now feels a little less empty. Something smolders in its center, small and delicate and in danger of being snuffed out. 

Spock thinks, _Oh, that’s love._

*****

Jim’s nudging and prodding at Sarek to accept Spock is unnecessary. Spock knows it will do no good. But little bits of joy and pride blossom low in his gut every time Jim challenges Sarek, because Jim does it for him. Spock lies in Sickbay with his father in the biobed next to him, his mother between them, and Jim shining brightly across from him. 

Jim smiles and rolls his eyes at Sarek just for Spock to see, even as he suffers because of the lie he told to make sure Spock could save his father, and Spock thinks, _Oh, that’s love too._

*****

Spock comes out of his meditation with a gasp. The memories run together but all of them are Jim. Jim’s smile, Jim’s hands gripping his arms, Jim holding him up when he is in pain. The golden halo that emanates from Jim’s hair, his skin, his hazel eyes is the ember that smolders in his chest. He feels it pulse and shine with every remembered smile, every coveted touch. 

_That is love._

***************

“Computer. A hypothetical scenario.”

_Proceed._

“If a Vulcan were to die but be revived after an extensive period of time, would his mating bond be severed?” 

_Undetermined._

“Specify.”

_There are 22 recorded instances of Vulcan bondmates experiencing the continuation or spontaneous reconnection of a bond after one party was deceased but resuscitated. There are 17 recorded instances of Vulcan bondmates experiencing a severed bond under similar circumstances.”_

The hollowness in Spock’s chest throbs. 

“Is time between death and resuscitation a factor in the reconnection of a severed bond?” 

_”There is no correlation between time deceased and bond reformation.”_

Spock folds his hands in front of his face and steeples his fingers. “Computer, were any of these bondmate pairs between a Vulcan and a member of a psi-null species?” 

_Negative._

There’s no evidence that he and Jim shared a bond that was broken upon his death, but it is logical. From his recovered memories, Spock knows they shared a mutual affection and attraction. They worked together as a seamless team. There would be no logical reason for them not to bond. 

The only logical conclusion Spock can draw is that somewhere, likely near the end of their five year mission, he proposed a mating bond to Jim and Jim accepted. 

Spock’s Vulcan retraining mandated that he learn things for himself, figure out who he was largely on his own. It’s only logical that no one told him. Not even Jim. 

The golden ember in his chest brightens and chases some of the darkness away.


	2. Chapter 2

The beds at the temple on Mount Seleya are hard, as if they were carved from the red stone of the mountain itself. Jim has found very little rest here. He has thrown himself into the repair of the Klingon ship. Not so that he can leave Vulcan any sooner, but because if he doesn’t do something, anything, the gnawing worry for Spock that lives deep in his stomach will consume him. 

There’s nothing he can do to bring Spock’s mind back to what it once was, to bring his heart back to the peace he worked so hard to find. Jim has never been good with a lack of control. 

The doors to his quarters swoosh open. He rises from his uncomfortable bed to see a very confused Spock in the doorway. 

“Your quarters are programmed to grant me entry automatically?” Spock’s eyebrow nearly disappears under his straight-cut bangs. 

Jim’s mouth goes dry. “Ah. Old habits. We started that near the end of the five year mission. But come in. Come in.”

Spock steps carefully inside. His hands are tucked into the sleeves of his robe. _He looks like an outsider even on his own planet_ , Jim thinks. 

“I allowed you entry to my quarters in the same way?” Spock sounds perplexed and Jim can’t help the sad smile that steals across his face. 

“Yes.” He’s not supposed to tell Spock anything that he can’t figure out for himself, but it’s only a little bend in the rules. “On the _Enterprise_ and in San Francisco. I think it made us both feel... “ Jim trails off. He’s not sure what it made them feel or if it made them feel the same things. He looks away from Spock. “Does that surprise you?” 

“Jim…” Spock says it so wistfully that Jim’s eyes snap to his face. He takes a step closer to where Spock is rooted just inside his doorway. 

“Spock?”

Spock stares at a spot over his left shoulder with an expression Jim has come to recognize as being lost in his own memories. “You used to come into my quarters while I was meditating. You would sit and wait for me to finish.” 

“Yes.” Jim’s voice cracks and he has to clear his throat. “You tried to teach me but I was never any good at it.”

Spock’s eyes focus on him again, all wistful remembrance gone. His dark eyes are as piercing as ever. Jim used to love watching how expressive Spock’s eyes were, even when Spock tried to deny any emotion. Now it feels wrong to take pleasure in the workings of Spock’s mind. It isn’t the same as the one Jim knew. Not anymore. Or maybe just not yet. 

“Vulcans prefer to meditate alone. We are vulnerable when in a deep meditation.” Spock’s eyes show Jim doubt, confusion, and curiosity. 

He takes a step away and puts the stone table that serves as a desk between them. Jim watches his fingers trace along a dark vein running through the reddish stone. “Yes. We worked together for a long time. We were...friends for a long time. You trusted me.” He looks up to find that Spock’s expression has fallen back into the carefully cultivated indifference he remembers from his first few months on the _Enterprise_. “I hope you’ll trust me again.” 

Spock walks forward and rests his own fingertips against the stone. There is less than half a meter separating their hands. _Spock knows the exact distance._ Neither bring their fingers any closer, but neither pull away. 

“I have regained a portion of my memory from our original mission.” 

Jim smiles broadly and genuinely at that. Those were the best of times, after all. His fingers press a bit more firmly against the point where the dark vein of rock fades away into the rest of the stone. “Oh? What have you remembered?”

“Mostly fragments of missions. Some pieces of off-duty time.” Spock shifts and his fingers slide a centimetre or two closer. “Though the narrative is incomplete, there is a one uniting factor. You, Jim.” 

Jim looks up and Spock’s eyes are unguarded. For a moment, they could be back on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ as young men. Jim holds his gaze but stays silent. 

“I know you have been asked not to tell me of my history, but to let me learn it for myself. I believe I have uncovered a fact about my past which needs to be set right again.” A few more centimetres disappear from the space between their fingers. Jim holds his ground. 

“How sure are you of this conclusion, Spock?” 

Spock pauses, just for a second, and Jim’s heart aches to watch him. Spock’s fingers slide forward again. “Eighty-seven point four percent.” 

Jim closes his eyes. His chest swells with sadness and pain. “Those sound like good odds.” 

“Indeed. A higher probability of a correct conclusion than many scenarios we have entered into over the years.” 

He looks down. Their fingers are a scant few centimetres apart. Spock’s fingers are as long and tapered and beautiful as he remembers. But this isn’t his Spock. Not yet. 

“Jim,” Spock continues in the face of Jim’s silence, “I wish to re-establish our bond.” 

Jim’s mind slams to a halt faster than a ship dropping straight out of Warp 10. This was not what he expected.

“Our bond?” He tries to keep his voice neutral, his expression free of judgement. Spock had been so sure and it hurts Jim to think that he will have to correct Spock’s assumption. 

Spock’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “A review of my recovered memories, of our relationship and my… My review led to no other logical conclusion than we had entered into a mating bond. Most likely sometime in the last year of our mission. I regret to say I cannot determine the exact date.” His voice jumps from confusion to apology. 

Jim looks back at those elegant fingers resting so close to his own and knows he has to pull away. Spock is apologizing for forgetting an anniversary that doesn’t exist. He keeps his fingers where they are on the stone desk. 

“We never bonded, Spock. You joined my mind several times in the line of duty but… We were only friends.” It breaks Jim’s heart to say it. There had never been anything “only” about their friendship. Even in the moments when he longed for Spock the most or was nearly overcome with anger toward Spock, their friendship was always a gift for which he would forever thank the galaxy. 

“That is illogical.” Spock’s confusion takes on an edge of frustration. He yanks his hand away from the desk and tucks it back into the sleeve of his robe. Jim’s hand jerks in an aborted attempt to follow. “My behavior… my…” 

“Well, we always were affectionate.” Jim smiles, trying to let Spock know he’s teasing. Teasing like they used to do to clear the air. 

“I am not affectionate!” 

There is such a look of offended disbelief on Spock’s face that Jim laughs. “You were, in your way.” 

_Is it possible for man’s heart to break and be healed all at once?_

Spock straightens and stares Jim down. “I would not have behaved in such a way as my memories reveal if I did not intend to offer a mating bond.” 

Jim bites down the urge to snap. To tell Spock that intention and action are two different things. Instead, he points Spock toward the breadcrumb missing from his path. 

“Spock, do you remember Gol? And the V'ger crisis?” 

Spock’s confusion returns. He looks as baffled as he did on the day his katra and body were rejoined. “I went to Gol to undertake kolinahr and I left before completing the ritual to rejoin Starfleet during the V’ger crisis.”

“That’s all a matter of record. I’m asking if you remember it.” 

Spock closes his eyes for a moment. “No. I have not recovered memories from that time.” 

“Would you have gone to Gol if we were bonded? Would you have purged all emotion then?” 

“No. I… I did not properly resolve the timeline of my recovered memories with that of known facts. Taking those factors into account would have lowered the certainty of my conclusion to-”

“It’s all right, Spock. You’re still figuring this out.” Jim hates himself for saying these things. He hates that he needs to say these things to Spock. 

Spock nods stiffly. “It is late. I have inconvenienced you enough.” He turns to go and the cracks in Jim’s resolve not to fill in the gaps for Spock widen. He keeps his lips pressed together and his fingertips pressed so tightly against the stone slab that they turn white. 

The doors swoosh open again and Spock turns, just enough to look at Jim over his shoulder. “Did I offer?” 

Jim swallows past the lump in his throat. “No, you didn’t offer.” 

“But, you are my t’hy’la. I should have offered.” Before Jim can ask the meaning of the Vulcan word, Spock is gone. The doors close and he’s alone again. 

_You haven’t offered. Not yet._

***************

It’s improper to yell or to run in the temple, but if Jim doesn’t do one or the other he won’t reach Sarek in time. He settles for a bit of both. A jog and a shout. 

Sarek turns immediately and raises an eyebrow. Jim has always known where Spock inherited that expression, but on Sarek’s face it lacks any of the humor and warmth Jim has come to love. That all came from Amanda. 

When he reaches Sarek, the eyebrow is still lifted. Bones’ voice floats through Jim’s mind, _Christ Jim, he’s going to sprain something._ It’s enough to help Jim plaster a diplomatic smile on his face. 

“Sarek, I’m glad I caught up with you before we left. I wanted to thank you for the hospitality and assistance in repairing the Klingon ship.” 

The eyebrow lowers but the dubious expression stays. “There was no need to seek me out, Admiral. I will be at your departure.” 

They have fifteen years and one mind meld between them but Jim still walks on eggshells around Sarek. There’s a small part of him, deep down, that whispers, _You were once cruel to Spock. You made him the wonderful being that he is but you were cruel too._ Jim may never get over that. 

He keeps his most relaxed, charming smile on display. “I wanted to ask you a question. In private.” 

Sarek continues his walk down the long corridor where Jim found him. The subtle incline of his head tells Jim to join him. If he weren’t so good at reading Vulcans...but there’s still something he’s missing. 

“I heard a Vulcan word yesterday and I wanted to know your translation. The computers and universal translators give me conflicting answers.” Sarek stays silent for a beat, which is as good as permission. “What does ‘t’hy’la’ mean?”

Sarek stops mid-stride. Sarek is often still while others move around him, but this is different. His stillness is brimming with tension. “Where did you hear that word?” 

Jim always recognizes the time to push. “Spock mentioned it to me.” 

A slight tremor snakes through Sarek’s shoulders. If Jim hadn’t been standing so close, he would have missed it. He waits while Sarek breathes in and out, and in and out again. 

“I think it best if you speak to my son directly about his meaning. Vulcan translations can be difficult.” He looks at Jim with just enough of a tilt to his chin to make a sideways glance possible. “Remember, Admiral, there was a reason I suspected Spock had left his katra with you.” 

Jim’s mouth is dry and sweat forms on his upper lip. “I know.”

Sarek nods. “I will see you at your departure.” 

Even someone with no experience with Vulcans would know that is a dismissal.


	3. Chapter 3

There is little time to meditate aboard the renamed _HMS Bounty_. Spock finds his progress recovering memories has slowed, but the time spent with the Admiral, _with Jim_ , is educational. That exposure opens new memories to him without the catalyst of meditation. Those memories come slowly to life, like a picture coming into focus rather than the deluge of color and feeling he experienced before.

He finds Jim, in a rare quiet moment, on what would be the observation deck of the Klingon warship. 

“It is difficult to observe the stars when we are on the ground.” 

Jim is in profile but Spock can see the curve of his sad smile and the lines that form around his eyes. “Well, I had to try anyway.” 

Spock stands next to him, gazing out into the blackness. They are seated too low in the park to even see most of the city lights. They stay quiet for long minutes. It is oddly comfortable. 

He clears his throat, just loud enough to sharpen Jim’s attention. “I remember Gol.” 

There’s a sharp intake of breath and Jim angles his head toward Spock. “What do you remember?” 

“I remember I left because I was afraid.” Spock continues to stare into darkness of the park. “I was afraid of how comfortable I had become with expressing emotion, how easy it was for me to forget to repress it, while aboard the _Enterprise_.” 

“You were afraid to be happy.” 

“No, I did not know how to be happy. I was deeply conflicted when we returned.” Spock pauses and takes two long breaths to steady himself. “It was easy to pretend I had not changed while we were in deep space. Returning to Earth changed that.” 

“You’ve never been emotionless. You’re one of the most deeply feeling people I’ve ever met.” Jim sounds both bitter and resigned. A wave of disgust rises in Spock’s throat. Jim should never sound that way. It sounds viscerally wrong. 

“Vulcans experience deep emotion. It is our choice that defines our behavior.” Spock’s shoulders are too tight and his head is beginning to ache. “I made a choice when I went to Gol.” 

Jim turns fully toward him but Spock cannot bring himself to face him. “You made the wrong choice.” 

“Irrelevant. It is the choice I made and that cannot be changed. But I also chose to leave before completing kolinahr and to seek out V’ger.” 

The image of Jim’s face when he first stepped on the bridge floats before his eyes. His expression was full of open adoration and Spock felt it deep in very bones. It took all of his training to remain impassive. 

“My exposure to V’ger was… enlightening.” 

Jim chuckles. “I remember. This simple feeling.” 

Spock’s palm burns where he held Jim’s hand. His shoulder tingles where Jim gripped him. “This simple feeling,” Spock agrees. “You felt the same, when we were in Sickbay.” 

_That is love._

“I did. I still do.” 

Spock finally forces his legs to move him. He shifts to face Jim, only a meter or so between them. “It helped to know. I found peace after V’ger. Peace with the duality of my nature.”

Jim smiled. “I know. You told me once, and I could see it in how you taught. In how your mentored your cadets.” 

Spock does not remember telling Jim about his feelings. He wants to ask what he said and how Jim responded. Did he offer an ozh'esta? Did Jim kiss him in the human way? 

_No,_ Spock thinks. _Surely my lips would still burn if he had._

“But then you died.” Jim’s expression falls into sadness. 

“I would not change that. It saved you. It saved the ship.” 

Jim nods and turns back to the out of sight stars. They stand quietly together for a few moments before Spock speaks again. 

“Before I died, our relationship had changed.” He doesn’t quit remember this. He sees it in snatches and snippets. He remembers his own feelings and Jim’s face when they spend off duty time together. It’s enough to make the logical leap but he has misinterpreted similar evidence before.

Jim turns to leave the small room. He brings their shoulders in line with each other, only a few centimeters apart, and lays his hand against Spock’s chest. Spock turns to look directly into Jim’s eyes, his heartbeat echoing in the familiar hollowness in his chest. 

“Not changed. Was changing.” Jim’s fingers flex against his robes. “It was unspoken but… we were getting there.” 

Spock licks his lips. They feel too dry to speak. “This time, I wish our relationship to be clearly defined. Our goals to be stated and mutually agreed upon.” 

Jim’s smile is wistful. “Mr. Spock, that may be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.” Jim’s hand slides from his chest to squeeze his shoulder. “This time, it will be.” 

Spock stands in the inadequate observation deck wishing he could see the movement of the stars long after Jim leaves. It’s almost like meditating. 

***************

“See to the safety of all hands!” 

Jim brushes past his shoulder on the way to engineering. The minutes Spock spends balancing on the side of the Klingon ship, thinking that might be the last touch he shares with Jim, are torturous. There was no connection, no transference of feeling or thought, through their clothing. 

When Jim’s head pops above the churning bay, Spock grabs for him with both hands. Others look for the whales, crying out when they see them, but Spock’s attention remains on Jim. The potential destruction of Earth should the whales fail in their task seems secondary to pulling Jim to safety. 

Still, when the first tail fin emerges from the water, Spock is grateful. He holds Jim securely with one arm and hangs from the ship’s external ladder with the other. Jim’s fingers curl around his elbow and squeeze as they watch George and Gracie swim past. 

The clouds clear as the probe departs and the ember in Spock’s chest sparks and crackles. They’ve succeeded. The whales have sung their song and Spock has received a second chance. 

The _Enterprise_ crew, his friends, fall and jump and are pulled into the water. He helps Jim climb onto the side of the ship with him only to have Jim attempt to peel his fingers away from the safety of the ladder. 

Spock resists, tries to push Jim’s hand away, but it’s with laughter bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill out. Jim quickly changes tactics. He grabs Spock under both arms and tries to throw him from the side of the ship. 

Spock grabs his arms, twists, and throws his weight toward the water, effectively dragging Jim into the bay with him. The hit the water with Jim on top of Spock and neither of them let go until they both surface. Spock sputters and blows water away from his mouth in an attempt to hide the smile he cannot hide. 

Jim sees and understands. He smiles with Spock, taking hold of his elbow under the water. Spock finds he doesn’t want to hide his joy from Jim. This is his second chance. 

Whatever Jim sees on his face, Spock will never know. Jim laughs, the roll of joyous chuckles Spock remembers from the bridge of the _Enterprise_ so many years ago, and pulls Spock toward himself. Their knees knock together as they tread water and Jim presses his lips against Spock’s mouth. 

It’s so quick Spock barely has a chance to close his eyes. It’s the impression of heat and the taste of salt and then it’s gone. He opens his eyes to see Jim’s face, beautiful and glowing golden with the sun shining behind him, very close to his own. 

“This time, I will offer.” 

“I know.” 

***************

The door to Jim’s apartment uses a palm print lock. Muscle memory pulls his right hand to the reader instead of to the chime. The display flashes green and the door swings open. _Old habits._

Jim stands in front of a wall of windows overlooking the darkness of the bay. He doesn’t turn but Spock can see a slow smile form on his face in the reflection. 

“Spock.” No matter how often Jim says his name, there’s always a tinge of elation the first time Jim sees him. The hollow in his chest shrinks and his ember glows brighter. 

He joins Jim at the window. They both changed into dry uniforms but after hours of debriefings and questions, even the fresh uniforms have begun to wilt. Spock doesn’t like the red jackets. He misses the command gold and how it added to Jim’s own golden glow. His hair is darker now and glasses often distract from the color of his eyes, but that glow is innate. Spock will never stop seeing it when he looks at Jim. 

“Jim.” 

The bay sloshes and rolls beneath them. They are content to watch in silence for long minutes. 

“Do you think they are still out there? Or have they already headed up the coast?” 

Spock raises an eyebrow. “I am uncertain, however Dr. Taylor has surely overseen the retrofit of our equipment to follow their tracking devices. We could call her-”

Jim chuckles and reaches out to squeeze Spock’s wrist. “Don’t you dare. We’re not disturbing her tonight. She deserves a break.” He lets his hand fall away and Spock misses it immediately. 

“As do you.” 

“As do we.” Jim scrubs a hand across his face. “No rest for the wicked though. Got a court martial in the morning.” 

Spock has no anxiety over the proceedings. There will be punishment but it will be light. Logically, Starfleet can do little else. “The hearing is a formality-”

“I know. And even if it weren’t, I don’t regret for a second what I did to get you back. Not for a second.” Jim looks at him long and hard and Spock nearly loses his train of thought. “Besides, I don’t want to talk about that tonight.” 

“What would you like to discuss?” 

The intense expression is gone and Jim smiles at him with one of his genuine, breathtakingly charming grins. “Why don’t you tell me, Mr. Spock? You’re the one who walked into my apartment without so much as a comm to let me know you were coming.” 

Spock wets his lips and, if he were just a bit braver, he would kiss Jim. “I only wanted to see you. I had no particular topic of conversation in mind.” 

“There is something I’ve been wondering since we left Vulcan.” Jim’s fingers twitch as if he would reach out and take Spock’s hand. It seems Spock is not the only one lacking in bravery tonight. “What does ‘t’hy’la’ mean?”

Spock’s heart beats a little faster against his last rib and the ember in his chest flares. “It can have three meanings. It can indicate friend or brother, often translated to brother-in-arms. Or lover.” 

“When you thought we’d bonded, you said I was your t’hy’la. Which t’hy’la am I to you?”

“At times, I have considered you both a friend and a brother. Most often I consider you both simultaneously.” Spock pauses and clears his throat. “I hope I can consider you a lover as well, in the future.” 

Jim huffs a nervous laugh. “Hopefully not far in the future.” 

Seeing Jim uncertain makes the hollowness throb. He left Jim uncertain of his place, of his importance to Spock for far too long. So long that they almost missed their chance. 

Spock reaches out and gently wraps his fingers around Jim’s wrist. He pulls Jim’s hand up, level with their chests, and traces a fingertip along the curved line in the center of Jim’s palm. “No, not far in the future. If you wish.” 

Jim watches Spock’s finger move against his palm. Spock adds a second finger and sweeps all the way from the base of Jim’s hand to the tips of his fingers. His own heart rate is accelerated and Jim’s breathing is shallow and fast. 

“Spock…” Jim’s voice is the mix of adoration, affection, and disbelief he often uses when he says Spock’s name. It’s a heady, emotional combination that it took Spock far too long to understand. And far too long to remember. 

Jim twists their palms toward each other, laces their fingers together, and uses that leverage to pull Spock toward him. Spock gives only a split second of surprised resistance before he realizes what Jim is doing. 

Only 5.84 centimeters separate their heights. Spock inclines his head to make up most of that distance, and Jim tilts upward to close the rest. 

Spock remembers watching Jim kiss others on their original mission. He remembers not out of jealousy but out of comparison. Those were passionate kisses where Jim’s arms wrapped around his partner to crush them together. 

This is not that kind of kiss. The sort of passion Spock remembers seeing in Jim years ago is gone. It was a passion born from desperation, an acknowledgment that those lovers were never meant to last. This kiss does not need to be that kind of kiss. 

Instead, they move together slowly. Their lips are dry and their tongues touch lightly in each other’s mouths. They are clean of the brackish water of the bay, but Spock imagines he can smell the sea in Jim’s hair and taste it on his lips. 

Jim keeps hold of his hand, gently stroking their fingers together. The acknowledgement of Spock’s own desires stirs him as much as the sensation itself. Spock wraps his other arm around Jim’s back and presses their chests together. 

They come away from each other naturally and Jim leaves a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He rests his head on Spock’s shoulder. 

“I’ve waited a long time for that, you know.” It’s muffled against the thick material of his uniform jacket but Spock hears him clearly. 

“As have I.” He spreads his fingers against Jim’s back and exerts just enough pressure to keep them pressed together, to let Jim know he has no intention of pulling away anymore. Spock clears his throat and presses a quick kiss to Jim’s temple. “I will stand with you and the crew at the hearing tomorrow.” 

There is no trace of surprise in Jim’s face when he looks up at Spock. Spock didn’t expect there to be, but he wanted to tell Jim his plans directly. Too much has been left assumed between them in the past. It cost them so much time. 

“I knew you would.” Jim steps back and Spock let’s him go, but Jim does not drop his hand. Instead, he squeezes their palms more tightly together. The pressure against the sensitive skin between Spock’s fingers sends a frisson of slow-simmering lust down his spine. “Will you stay and go with me in the morning?” 

Spock had come to Jim’s apartment with no intention of going back to his own residence that evening. He experiences no great thrill of joy or excitement at the invitation, only a sense of _rightness_ that settles into the hollow in his chest and makes the ember flash brighter. 

He arches an eyebrow and settles a playfully innocent look on his face. “Jim, are you asking me to spend the night with you?” 

Jim responds with an equally playful, shocked look. “Why, Spock! Did you have any intention of leaving?” 

Spock’s features soften. It’s the sort of smile Jim will recognize on his face. “You know I did not.” 

Jim breaks into a wide grin. “Good. Because, frankly, I bought a massive bed when we got back from intercepting V'ger and I’ve been the only one sleeping in it.” 

Spock’s eyebrow nearly hit his hairline. 

“What? I don’t get called a boy scout because of my lack of preparation.” Jim tugs on their joined hands again and Spock’s stomach flips. “Come on, Spock. Let’s go to bed.” 

Spock follows Jim, even though he knows the path to the bedroom and can now remember longingly tracing it with his eyes countless times. 

***************

“Do you have a message for your mother?” 

Spock glances to his right. Jim is waiting. He’s standing far enough back give privacy but his expression is expectant. If Spock gives him so much as a slight nod, Jim would know if he should leave, if he should join the conversation, or if he should make an excuse to pull Spock away from Sarek. Just a nod and Jim would know. 

Instead, Spock softens the corners of his mouth and lets the strain around his eyes relax. Jim will know that he’s smiling. 

Jim responds with a radiant grin. 

Spock turns back to Sarek, who Spock knows witnessed this exchange but is more than Vulcan enough to ignore it. 

“Yes, tell her... I feel fine.”


End file.
